


It’s For Lovers (orjustfriends)

by stardust_freckles



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Artist!Ryan, High School AU, M/M, POV Brendon Urie, Some Fluff, Some angst, Some kissing, lots of mentions of brendon worrying about disappointing his family, ryden times a thousand, some mentions of child abuse but nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2018-10-13 12:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10514103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardust_freckles/pseuds/stardust_freckles
Summary: It's Brendon's final year of high school and he's becoming more uneasy by the second. For one thing, it's hard spending every day lying to your family, pretending you believe what they believe and sitting with them at church with a plastic smile. It only gets harder when he meets Ryan, a fellow senior and a completely beautiful human being in every possible way. If Brendon didn't already know he was attracted to guys, he definitely couldn't deny it now. Ryan comes from a tough home life with an abusive father and no mother in the picture. The two bond over music and their shared family issues and Ryan decides to tutor Brendon for an art class he doesn't actually have (but Ryan doesn't have to know that). Basically, this is high school AU Ryden with a bit of canon and a bit of my own head, mixed up and served with some fluff, angst, lots of art references, and all from Beebo's POV. Hope you like it, my dudes. Cheers. x





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY so i've never posted anything on here before, but i've been working on this story for a while and decided to upload the first part! I'll try to update as much as possible, but i've got a hella hectic work schedule so i guess we'll see how this goes. hope you guys like this thing and thanks for reading! <3

_“Art is to console those who are broken by life.”_   
_― Vincent Van Gogh_

*****

It was the first day of my last semester of high school, and I was late.

            I ran through the halls, cursing the weight of my backpack and the pain in my side. I’d been searching for this particular room, marked on my schedule as ‘23B’, for about ten minutes. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t found it yet, and it wasn’t like I was particularly excited to go – it was Math Skills, AKA easy math, AKA math for people who can barely pass (or in my case, hardly ever pass at all) a regular math class. Math sucks. After high school, I’d vow to never do a math problem again. I was thinking this as I slowly came to a stop, slinking down to the floor to catch my breath and study the map of the school again.

            It shouldn’t have been hard for me to find this stupid classroom. I’d been attending this school since freshman year, but this particular wing had been unknown to me until that day. It was the arts department, and though I’d taken choir once and had made my way around a theater elective or two, those were in a whole other building. I didn’t know a single thing about art, and I didn’t know a single solid thing about math – which was why I was thrown into the easiest math class on the planet, which was stuck in some mysterious corner of the art wing, since, I guess, kids who can’t do math don’t deserve a dedicated math classroom. I rubbed my eyes and turned the map around, almost deciding to head back to the office to ask for help when he spoke to me for the first time.

“Are you lost or something?”

            I looked up and my heart froze, my mouth immediately going dry and, for once, forgetting how to form words. The guy was around my age, I guessed, but quite a bit taller. He had the thinnest body I’d ever seen, but it looked so perfect and soft, still. His hair was brown and styled with long bangs and a half-mohawk thing. It must’ve been a full minute before I wiped the stupid grin off my face and squeaked, “Yes.”

I cleared my throat and stood up. “Yeah,” I repeated, “I’m trying to get to this class and I can’t seem to find it.”

            He held out his hand and I was taken aback at first, so entranced by his hazel eyes I almost put my hand in his. He gestured with those eyes, then, to my schedule, and I sheepishly gave it to him. Feeling like a complete idiot at this point, I honestly just wanted to leave. Except then he looked back at me and I forgot how to think, let alone how to move.

He was wearing eyeliner.

I didn’t think my mouth could get any drier, but it did.

“I know exactly where that is,” he said, giving me a half-grin. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

“Geez, thanks,” I breathed, still catching my breath from all that running. “Are you sure? Don’t you have a class to get to?”

He waved his hand. “I was on my way to the bathroom. I can spare a few minutes. It’s right around the corner.”

“Oh, okay,” I stuttered. “Thanks again.”

            He started leading me to the classroom, our arms brushing every few steps. I glanced over at his skinny form and noticed he was wearing a Radiohead t-shirt. “You like Radiohead?” I asked, glad some of my usual extroverted-ness was returning.

“Yeah,” he said, “they’re pretty good. What’s your favorite song?”

“I don’t know if I could pick,” I admitted.

“Same here,” he said, flashing another half-grin.

            The way he spoke got to me, too. His voice was soft and his words all ran together smoothly, almost like he was speaking in cursive. I was going to ask him another music question when he suddenly stopped. “Here it is,” he said, gesturing to a classroom with ‘23B’ written at the top.

“Thank you so much, man,” I said, smiling way too big for someone who was at school. “I would’ve been lost for hours, probably.”

He laughed. “I kinda don’t doubt that.”

“Shut up!”

We laughed a bit more and then I turned to the classroom. “Catch you around,” I said over my shoulder, my hand on the doorknob.

“Wait,” he said, gripping my arm. I turned around, slightly tingly where his fingers had been. “I’m Ryan Ross. What’s your name?”

“Oh – I’m Brendon,” I said, heart pounding as he stuck out his hand to shake mine. He turned my hand over and pulled a marker out of his pocket with his other hand. He scribbled on my palm and then let me go.

“There’s my number. Y’know, just in case you wanna talk about music - or if you get lost again,” he smirked.

I chuckled. “Thanks, dude.” He nodded at me and waved lazily. I waved back, turning on my heel to enter the class, my brain too focused on the number on my hand and the fit of his too-tight jeans and everything else to ever let a single math problem slip in.

 

*******************************************************************

 

“Mom! I’m home!”

I threw my backpack down and bolted to the pantry, grabbing a Capri-Sun and the box of Cheez-Its. Mom walked into the kitchen and smiled. “How was school?” she asked, as Standard Mom Code requires.

Following the Standard Kid Code, I responded with, “Good.”, when in reality, I wanted to shout that it had been pretty much the best day ever: there was mac n cheese for lunch in the cafeteria, first day of the semester meant no homework, I was about to devour an amazing snack – oh, and I met the most gorgeous guy on the planet who just so happened to give me his number.

But Standard Kid Code also requires that we don’t disappoint our parents. Or at least, my Standard Kid Code did. The last thing I ever wanted to do was disappoint them, and having a crush on a guy was probably at the top of the list of ways to make my parents disappointed in me.

So I left it at ‘good’, and headed upstairs to my bedroom to eat my snack and text the reason behind the ‘good’.

            I decided to make it easy on myself and him by sending a simple, **Hey! It’s Brendon. Here’s my number. :)** , which I definitely didn’t spend ten minutes writing and re-writing and then re-writing again on the little number pad before sending. Mom tapped on my door and swung it open as I sat on my bed struggling to swallow down the enormous amount of Cheez-Its I’d shoved in my face. When I finally had, I choked out, “What’s up?”

She sat down across from me. “Did you know there’s a game tonight?” she said, smiling as though I’d be even mildly interested in such a thing.

“I think I might’ve heard something about it on the announcements,” I said. (I hadn’t. I’d been doodling during the announcements.)

“Well, I think it would be great if you went, Bren,” she said, brushing some crumbs that had gathered on my blanket into her hand. “It’s your senior year. You’ve got to take advantage of all the little high school things you’ll miss when you’re gone.”

“Ooh, you’re right. I’ll definitely miss the crowded bleachers and sweaty basketball dudes,” I said sarcastically, throwing my mom a smile to show I was kidding. She still gave me a look, though, so I shrugged and gave in to my Kid Code once again. “I’ll go,” I said, forcing another grin.

She patted my knee. “Good. You’ll have fun!” I smiled and nodded.

_One of these days, all of the things I’m going along with just to appease them will catch up with me._ , I thought. I checked my phone the moment she left. Still not a single word from Ryan, and it had been 7.5 minutes – not that I was counting or anything. I tucked my phone into my pocket and sighed.

 

********************************************************************

 

            It cost me $2 to get in to the basketball game. $2 to sit with a bunch of people I don’t know to watch a game I couldn’t care less about. $2 I could’ve spent on eyeliner, which I’d suddenly decided I needed ever since I saw Ryan wearing it. I sat for about ten minutes before I decided wandering the halls would actually be more entertaining. The school was so much better after hours – dark and quiet, except for the occasional squeak of sneakers bleeding into the background from the gymnasium. I headed over to the art building, which was just across from the gym, and started to wander. It wasn’t long before I came across 23B. I stopped there and smiled to myself, before realizing the light was on in the room. I peered in the small door window and my heart stuttered; Ryan Ross was in there painting.

            I had the door open before my mouth remembered how to talk, so we stared at each other for a good three seconds before I finally blurted out, “Hey!”

“Hi!” he said back, looking a bit startled. “I see you found it on your own this time.”

“I did,” I laughed, closing the door behind me. “Whatcha working on?”

“Oh, just an oil painting. I’ve already taken all the art classes, but Mr. Kemp lets me come in after hours to use the studio.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah,” he smiled, turning back to his work. “I’ve been here since school ended.”

“I don’t know anything about art,” I admitted sheepishly, walking over to where his easel was placed. “Wow, that’s awesome,” I breathed, taking in the circus-like scene Ryan was creating.

“Thanks,” he said, adding another stroke. “And hey, you’ll learn soon enough. Mr. Kemp is a great teacher. You’re lucky to have him.”

“Yeah,” I said absently, not realizing at all that Ryan believed me to be taking an art class instead of math skills until –

“You know,” he said, “I could maybe tutor you a bit in art, if you’d like.”

            My eyes widened. “That would be great,” I replied. There was no way I was telling him I was actually in math skills now.

“When are you free?”

“All the time,” I said too quickly.

He laughed softly. “How about every day after school? Are you okay with that?”

I nodded, again too quickly. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

            He half-smiled. “Good. We’ll start now, unless you wanted to get back to that basketball game. I’m assuming that’s why you’re here?”

I sighed. “Yeah. My mom wanted me to go, so I'm here, but I’m not going back. I got bored and decided to walk around.”

            Ryan nodded. He brought me an easel, carefully setting down some paint, brushes, and thinner. He started off simple, showing me some different shading techniques and color blends. “The most important thing,” he said, “is to paint with your heart. There’s no room for rules in art, and if somebody tries to give you some anyway, break them immediately.”

“The rules, right? Not the person?” I joked.

He looked at me very seriously and said, “Depends.” I lost it laughing and he smirked.

Hours went by before either of us even thought to check the time, and when we did, Ryan blushed. “I missed your text! I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed, and I waved my hand.

“It’s okay, dude!” I said, feeling glad he wasn’t just ignoring me.

I watched him push some buttons before slipping his phone back into his pocket. Mine buzzed. I grinned.

“You gonna get that, or – ?”

“I’ll check it when I get home,” I smirked.

He narrowed his eyes and then let out a small laugh.

“So what time is it, anyway?” I asked.

“Oh yeah,” he remembered, adding more eyeshadow to a mime in the corner of the canvas. “It’s around 9:15.”

“9:15?!”

            I started rushing around, gathering my stuff, trying my best not to knock over art supplies in the process. Ryan just stood there, watching me. “I’m really sorry, man – I’ve gotta get home. Curfew is 9:30.”

“9:30?” he said, bewildered.

“Yeah, I know,” I replied, still rushing to clean up my easel.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing my wrist. I turned to look at him, skin heating up. “I can put all this away if you need to get home. I think the game ended about five minutes ago, so if you’re a little late, just tell your parents that.”

“Are you sure?”

He squeezed my wrist. “I’m sure. I know what it’s like to deal with angry parents.”

            He let me go and I exhaled like someone who was let off of death row at the last second. “Thank you, Ryan Ross,” I said, “for saving my butt.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said chuckling, folding up my easel and heading to the corner of the room to store it. I stood awkwardly at the door, not knowing if I should just leave or if I should try to hug him or something. Deciding that was weird, I went with a small wave.

“See ya, Ryan.”

He waved back with his free hand. “Same time tomorrow?” he called across the room.

“Well, a little earlier – I’ll be here after school.”

He nodded. “Right. See you then!”

“Bye!”

            I walked out to my car, feeling like the luckiest guy on the planet. If only I could’ve stayed longer. I suddenly remembered the text on my phone and rushed to take it out before I drove away. The screen lit up and my heart stuttered again.

 

**Sorry (again) that I missed your text :(**

 

            I was staring at the message for several seconds with a stupid grin on my face when a knock pulled me out of my daydream thoughts. It was Ryan, staring at me with his hazel eyes wide. I rolled down the window. “What’s up, dude?” I asked.

“Sorry to bother you, but could I get a ride home real quick? I took the city bus to school and I don’t think it runs this late, at least not anywhere near here.” he ran a hand through his hair. “I only realized it a second ago.”

“Of course!” I said, unlocking the doors. “Come on in.”

He went around to the other side and climbed in. “I’m sorry for you having to do this. I know you need to get home.”

“It’s totally okay,” I replied. “I wouldn’t want you having to look for a ride from a stranger just to save my butt.”

“But I was proud of saving your butt!” he joked. “What if it’s not saved now?”

I laughed. “Maybe it’ll be fine! I mean, the game ended, what, fifteen minutes ago? I’ll tell them I had to take a friend to their house. They’ll understand.”

“I hope so,” he muttered, adjusting the A/C. I switched on the radio and pulled out of the school parking lot.

“So where do you live?” I asked. He shifted in his seat.

“It’s about ten minutes from here. Do you know Marigold Street?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I live in the small house on the end.”

“Okay,” I said. “I think I can find that.”

            I focused on the road, doing my best not to lose myself completely to the scent of Ryan’s cologne. He was wearing the perfect amount to drive me crazy. It was musky with hints of citrus, and it was clinging to everything like a warm blanket. I had to literally bite down on my tongue to keep from saying something stupid about how freaking good it smelled.

“You sure they won’t be upset?” Ryan said after a minute or so had passed, and I nodded fervently.

“Oh yeah, it’ll be okay. I promise.”

“I just…” his voice drifted off.

“What?”

He shifted in his seat again. “I just know, if I made my dad upset…I just don’t want to get you in trouble.”

I looked over at him for a moment. “My parents won’t get that angry. I mean, the worst they’d do is lecture me.” I paused, unsure if I should ask him what I was about to. We’d only met that day. Would it be intrusive? “Does…does your dad…hurt you?”

He gulped and took a few breaths. “I’m sorry – that was really personal,” I said, mentally kicking myself repeatedly.

“No, no – it’s okay,” he said. “My dad is an alcoholic, and he does sometimes…” his voice drifted off again. “I just didn’t want to be the cause of that happening to you.”

I took a breath myself. “I appreciate that, dude. And hey,” I said, probably about to get too personal and weird again, “if you ever need somewhere to escape to or whatever, my house is always open, alright?”

I looked over at him quickly to gauge his reaction. He looked thankful – touched, even, yet all he did was slowly nod.

We rolled up to his house and I put the car in park. We just looked at each other for a few long seconds, like we had in the art room earlier, except this time with more understanding and familiarity. He threw his backpack over his shoulder. “Thanks for the ride, Brendon.”

“Anytime,” I said, in full honesty.

            He opened the car door and swung his long legs over the side, and just when I thought that would be the end of our conversation for the night, he turned back around. “And seriously – thanks for what you said – about offering your house to me as an escape? That’s really…” he breathed, “…that’s the nicest thing anybody’s ever said to me.”

            I offered him a small smile, wishing I could bring him to my house right then and there. But that would definitely be too forward, and also problematic since I wasn’t allowed to have sleepovers, especially not with people my parents didn’t know. “I meant it, okay? Anytime you want to escape.”

            He nodded, his face crinkling into a sad smile, and shut the door. We waved at each other through the glass, and I stayed in the driveway until he had disappeared, not caring in the slightest that it was 9:31.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a week since the events of the last part, just so you guys know! :) x Also, this part is quite a bit shorter than the last one. Sorry about that. <3

_ “A great fire burns within me, but no one stops to warm themselves at it, and passers-by only see a wisp of smoke”  _

_ ― _ __ _ Vincent Van Gogh _

******

** Last night was great. You’ve got a real natural skill with art, and with some more tutoring it’ll feel completely natural in no time. P.S. Hope your butt was still saved. **

**** **** I read the text he’d sent me Friday night fifteen times before finally shutting off my phone, smiling at the ceiling of my bedroom. It was 7:02 am, and I’d only slept maybe four hours. I couldn’t stop thinking about Ryan – about his eyes, about his laugh, about his dad. I was nervous about his home life and nervous about what would happen between us. We’d only met a week before and I was already terrified of losing him.

            I rolled out of bed, glancing at the mirror on the wall and snorting. My hair was sticking out all over the place. I combed my fingers through it, slipped on a t-shirt, hoodie, and jeans, and headed to my car. Mom and Dad were already gone – Dad at work and Mom at the gym. I pulled a capri-sun out of the glove box and sucked it down, eating a couple granola bars as I drove to school. My eyes widened as I neared CVS. I could spare a few minutes, I reasoned. I could afford to be late to first period.

            I stayed out in the parking lot when I got to school, struggling to line my eyes the way Ryan could so precisely. It came out much more thick; maybe the lady at the counter had some sort of sixth sense about makeup skills and could tell it would look this way, which was why she gave me such a strange look when I set the black liner down to pay for it. I shrugged to myself and headed into class anyway, figuring any eyeliner was better than none no matter how terrible it looked.

            Surprisingly, no one really made any comments about it. I got a few looks here and there, especially from teachers, but no one said a word. Well, that’s not entirely true – my buddies from church, Ethan and Kyle, definitely had some stuff to say about it at lunch. I brushed it all off, though.

            The end of the day couldn’t come quick enough. I was staring at the clock so obsessively I was afraid I’d get a headache from turning to look at it so often. When the bell rang, I tore out of the classroom, fellow students laughing and calling after me. “Where are you going so fast, Beebo?”  “He’s probably gonna go buy more capri suns.”

“How did you know?” I called back over my shoulder, running just as fast.

When I made it in to 23B, panting and tired, Ryan was already there setting up our easels. “Whoa,” he said, “you okay, Brendon?”

“Yeah,” I said, setting my backpack down as I caught my breath, trying my best not to think about the way my name sounded in his voice.

He walked over to me looking concerned, and it was then I realized what he was looking at. “I think you need some help with that,” he said, pointing to my face.

“What?” I laughed, then he grabbed my hand and I shut up.

“Come on,” he said, leading me over to the boys’ bathroom. “I can fix it for you.”

We were seemingly alone in there, the walls bouncing and echoing with every sound. I looked in the mirror and busted out laughing. The eyeliner was all over my face.

“What brand did you buy?” he asked, wetting a paper towel.

“Wet n Wild or something? I don’t even know.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

I scoffed playfully. “What, are you some sort of eyeliner expert, Ross?”

“You can bet your saved butt I am.”

He leaned down slightly. “Look up,” he said. “Don’t worry – I won’t poke your eye.”

“Okay,” I said, though it was very hard to look away from Ryan when he was standing right in front of me.

He started gently rubbing at the smudged black mess and I blinked too many times and backed away. “Sorry,” I said. “I’m not used to stuff being close to my eyes.”  
           “It’s fine,” he said. “Here.” He lightly cupped my face. “Now I can keep you steady.” I felt anything but steady then, but it did make it easier for him to wipe away the mess. I could feel my face heating up and hoped he didn’t notice.

He smiled and pulled away. “There. Just one more thing...” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his own stick of eyeliner.

“What brand is that one?” I asked.

“Urban Decay,” Ryan answered quickly. “Best on the market.”

“Oh okay,” I said. “I’ll have to get some later and try it on.” I hoped that would keep him from touching my face again and getting me all nervous, but it didn’t help at all. Once again his left hand was cradling my cheek, fingers lightly brushing against my hair, his right hand drawing lines on my eyes. He stuck his tongue out just a little bit as he focused, and I clenched my fists, trying to keep still and not blink every millisecond.

“There,” he said, pulling away, my face feeling cold without his touch there. “Take a look.”

            I turned to the mirror and my eyes widened. “That looks freaking awesome!” I exclaimed, and it really did. “Dude, you should be a makeup artist or something. How did you do that in less than a minute? It took me like five to do mine this morning and it didn’t even look good!”

            He shrugged and smiled shyly. “I guess it’s just practice. And here,” he said, handing me the eyeliner, “I’ve got another one at home.”

I blinked in surprise. “Are you sure?”  
He nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

“Really?”

            He narrowed his eyes and looked over mine, one of his eyebrows raising ever-so-slightly for a moment, as though he was checking out his work and checking me out at the same time. My cheeks burned. “Oh yeah,” he said, tone different. “I’m positive.”

            Suddenly, laughter started echoing around the bathroom – laughter that definitely wasn’t coming from Ryan or me. We both whirled around until we noticed Ethan and Kyle in the corner, clutching their stomachs and completely losing it.

“Sorry to interrupt your makeup lesson,” Ethan choked out. My cheeks burned again, but for a different reason.

            “Shut up,” I said quietly, trying to pretend like the comments didn’t hurt. They were just teasing, right? They didn’t actually mean to hurt me, right?

Right??

            They continued howling with laughter, eyes leaking tears. “I’m sorry Brendon,” Ethan said, though I wanted to yell at him that he wasn’t, “but it’s just so funny!”

“Why?” I said, chuckling, a vain attempt to keep my cool.

“C’mon, man!” said Kyle.

“Yeah!” said Ethan. “How _gay_ is this?”

            Their laughter grew louder. I looked over at Ryan and realized immediately there was another big difference between the two of us; he might’ve been shy, while I was loud, but boy did he lack a poker face. He took a couple steps towards them, fire in his hazel eyes, and Kyle stopped laughing. Ethan kept on, apparently not noticing the wrath of Ross. I touchedRyan'sshoulder to try to hold him back, but he shrugged me off gently. Kyle elbowed Ethan hard in the ribs but he waved him off. “We’re just playing, man,” laughed Ethan, turning his casual waving on Ryan.

“Let’s just go,” I said, only loud enough for him to hear.

“See you later, guys,” I said, forcing one of my classic fake smiles, pulling Ryan behind me by his thin noodle arm.

“Bye!” said Kyle, and a moment later Ethan choked a goodbye out, too.

            Ryan was fuming all the way to the art room. I shut the door behind us and he sat down on top of one of the art tables, running his fingers through his mohawk hair. “Who were those guys?” he said, looking up at me.

“Ethan and Kyle,” I said.

“Yeah, I know, but how do you know them?”

I gulped. _Here we go._ “Church.”

“That figures.”

“Nah, don’t be like that,” I said, shaking my head. “Not everybody who goes to church is like that.”

“I know,” he huffed, pulling at his sleeves. “I just…I just really hate it when people… _ugh_ ,” he slowly lowered himself down, laying on the table, then, staring blankly at the ceiling.

I tentatively moved across the room from where I’d been frozen at the door frame and sat next to him.

“Me too,” I said softly.

            We sat there in silence for a few moments, and then Ryan spoke again. It was the question I’d been dreading, the question I always answered with a series of cheerful, plastic lies. The question I was actually contemplating answering truthfully for once. “Which church do you go to, anyway?” he asked, still staring at nothing.

“I’m Mormon,” I said. “But…I’m not.” My heart stopped and my arms started to shake.

“So…you go to church because you have to?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied, the shakiness getting to my voice, “basically.” I bit my lip and took a breath. “The thing is, my entire family, going back for generations, has always been Mormon. Everyone, Ryan,” my voice started getting a bit louder. “And all of my friends, and all of my mom’s friends, and all of my dad’s friends, and literally everyone I know – except for you. So all my life I’ve been just going along with it, even though I’ve always known I was…” I shook my head, then slowly lowered myself next to him. “I’ve always known I didn’t belong there,” I continued quietly. I wiped my face with my shaky hands, as though that would force me to chill out. “But I’ve also always known I could never, ever leave the church, because it’s a big deal. It’s not an easy thing to do, and my family would be completely heartbroken, and they’d cut me off, and I love them so much, I just…ugh…” I sighed, crossing my arms in an attempt to make them stop trembling.

“Hey,” he said softly. I turned my head, suddenly realizing just how close we were to each other. I’d never noticed the tiny freckles on his face until then. “It’s okay. We’ve all got parts of our lives that suck. And you telling me this…” he looked away for a second. “…it means a lot. I’ve never really, um….,” he looked away again, “I…I only have one friend other than you, and he doesn’t know everything about me. So I get it a little bit. I get what you’re going through, though not 100%. I hope one day you can leave, and that they’ll love you anyway.” I looked away from him and stared at the ceiling, too, my arms starting tobecome still. I let them fall to my sides.

And there, in the art classroom, both of us staring at nothing and full of quiet secrets, Ryan Ross pulled my hand into his.

I knew nothing would ever be the same from that moment on.


	3. Part Three

_"Normality is a paved road: It’s comfortable to walk,_ ___but no flowers grow on it.”  
― Vincent Van Gogh_

*****

It's funny how some things take so long to change, while others happen in the blink of an eye. When I got into high school, for example, I discovered Nirvana and literally the next day my room was decked out in Kurt Cobain posters (most of which Mom made me take down, but anyway). On the other hand, it had been a week and a half since the whole bathroom incident, and where was I?

With Ethan and Kyle, playing video games.

I know, I know, I know. I hated it, too. 

It was just so hard to say no to them. If I said no, they'd ask why, and if they brought up Ryan, I'd have to lie it all away, which I  _could_  do, but I'd rather not. I spent enough of my time lying, and the last thing I wanted to do was drag Ryan into it. The poor dude had to deal with enough already. He didn't need a bunch of hormonal, angry Mormons on his back.

We were playing Super Smash Bros. on Ethan's game cube and I was totally killing it, beating the ever living crap out of both of them - until my phone buzzed in my pocket. My heart stopped and I paused the game, hurrying to read my new text. My face burned when I saw who it was from on the little front screen. 

"Dude, what the heck?" said Ethan, turning to me with a rage that quickly dissolved into curiosity. "What is it, Brendon? A text from a  _girl_?" Kyle giggled. Ethan snatched my phone out of my hands before I even had a chance to flip the thing open and read Ryan's text. 

"Give it back!" I said, reaching for my phone.

"Ooh! She wants to take you record shopping later!" Ethan boomed obnoxiously, holding it away from me. "What's her name, anyway?" he mumbled, squinting at the screen. He started to laugh. "Oh, this is too good."

"Give it  _back_ , dude!"

" _Ryan_?!" he choked. "You're blushing about a  _guy_?!"

"No, I - !"

"Wait - is this that one from the bathroom with the makeup?"

"No, just listen - !"

"Hey, give him his phone back, you weirdo," Kyle suddenly spoke up, carefully prying the phone from Ethan's hands. "I know loads of girls named Ryan. One of my cousins is named Ryan, actually, and she's definitely a girl." He handed me my phone.

"Thank you!" I chuckled, smirking at Ethan.

"So who is this chick, then?" he sighed, looking defeated as he sat down beside Kyle on the couch.

"Uh...she's a total babe," I said, smiling to myself. 

"What's she like?"

"Well...she's shy," I said, biting at the inside of my cheek, trying to think of ways to gender-neutrally explain Ryan. "She...she likes music, as you can tell, and she's funny. She's also really good at art."

"Nice, man," nodded Kyle.

"What does she  _look_  like, though?" asked Ethan, as though it was all that mattered.

"She has dark hair," I said quickly. "...also she has the most gorgeous eyes on the planet."

"You cheeseball!" laughed Kyle teasingly, and I laughed, too.

"Well, have fun with her," said Ethan, then he added, with a grin, "but not  _too much_ fun. You know the rules."

I waved my hand. "Yeah, yeah..."

I excused myself from Ethan's house a few minutes later, heading home to actually take a shower and put on something decent. I texted Ryan back the first free chance I got, telling him I couldn't wait to see him and that I'd pick him up around six. He didn't have a car anymore, and hadn't had one for months, because his dad put him on restriction from it - a fact which kinda just made me want or restrict his dad. With my fist.

I put on some cologne and headed out around 5:45, Mom asking lots of questions. I told her I was going out with a friend to buy records, and I told her that friend was a girl when she asked, just in case Ethan or Kyle interrogated her about it for some random reason. I had to keep my story straight (no pun intended).

I knocked on Ryan's door and waited, swinging nervously on the doormat. We'd never hung out before outside of school, besides that one time I drove him home after our first art tutoring session, but that didn't really count. I was really excited, but I also felt like I was gonna throw up or something. Finally, Ryan swung open the door and shut it behind him just as fast. "C'mon," he breathed, grabbing my arm and dragging me towards the car. It was then I realized he'd been running, and was running still. 

"What is it?" I asked.

"Just get in." 

He had the passenger door open and was sitting with his seatbelt on before I could even finish my question.

I got in after him and asked again, "What is it?" 

"Just - just drive," he stuttered, so I did. As I was pulling away, I suddenly understood. Ryan's dad came flying down the steps in a drunken haze, walking diagonally and shouting. I couldn't catch what he was saying, but it's not like I was going to ask him to repeat himself. I glanced over at Ryan, still catching his breath, skinny arms clinging to each other for protection.

"Are you okay?" I asked, wishing there was more I could do for him.

"Yeah," he said, taking another breath. "Dad's just...being Dad."

"Was he mad about you leaving to buy records?" I asked in all seriousness. Ryan laughed.

"He doesn't give a damn about the records."

I clenched my teeth. "Then, what's he - ,"

"Just don't worry about it, Bren," he said, breath regaining normal speed, "he's not worth it. I promise."

We reached the record store about ten minutes later. Ryan knew the route like the back of his hand, though I'd never visited this particular one. It had loads of shelves and aisles, full of new releases and old classics. I was marveling at everything when Ryan elbowed me softly. "How about this," he said. "You buy me a record you think I'll like, and I'll buy you one I think you'll like. Deal?"

I smiled. "Deal."

We roamed the shelves mostly separate from each other, then, wanting the records to be surprises. It took me a while to pick the perfect one for Ryan, but eventually I settled on - 

"The Labyrinth soundtrack?" he said, looking down at the album cover, resting in his lap.

"Uh-huh," I beamed. "You don't already have it, do you?" I asked in concern.

"No," he said, then he looked up and smiled at me and my nerves melted away. "I love this movie. How did you know?"

I shrugged. "I didn't. I love it, too."

Ryan stared at his record for a while longer until I got impatient. I squirmed in the squeaky leather seat of my car. "Okay, my turn!" I exclaimed. Ryan chuckled.

"Alright, alright. Shut your eyes." 

I did. 

"Hold out your hands."

I did, soon feeling the familiar feel of old cardboard in them. 

"Okay, open."

My eyes grew wide. " _Magical Mystery Tour_?!" I exclaimed. "How the frick did you get a Beatles album?"

"It was the last one he had in stock," Ryan grinned proudly. "I grabbed it the second we walked in."

I shoved him. "I can't believe this. This is amazing!" I shoved him again. "You're amazing!"

"I try, I try," he muttered, smiling at the floor.

I started the car and we drove off happy, high on our mutual love of vinyl. The trip home went by far too fast, as it always does, and I offered to walk Ryan to the door. He turned around to face me just before he went in.

"It was about you."

"What?" I asked, completely confused.

"He...Dad was...." Ryan sighed. "Dad was pissed off about you."

"Me?" I said. "But why?"

Ryan swallowed and looked around nervously. "He just...he knows stuff. Don't worry about it."

"Knows what stuff?"

"About me. About...." his voice trailed off. "Just...don't take it personally. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you."

"No," I said, "it's completely okay." I put my hand on his shoulder and pulled him in for a hug - a long, bone-crushing one. You'd think a guy built like Ryan would give limp hugs, but he put every inch of himself into it, especially that one, our first one. He held onto me like he didn't want me to ever leave, but of course I had to go, and so did he, him back to his alcoholic dad and me back to my Mormon parents. We pulled our heads back gently, foreheads just inches apart, and for a moment I thought we'd kiss, but the moment passed just as soon as it arrived, and I was waving goodbye to him from my car just as quickly.


	4. Part Four

_Great things are done by a series of small things brought together. -_ _Vincent Van Gogh_

*****

"I can't believe how freakin awesome that is!"

Ryan leaned back and tilted his head, staring at his now-finished circus painting. "You really think it's that good?" he asked, a bit quiet.

I looked at him in shock. "Yeah, I do. Look at it!" His cheeks lightly tinted pink and he smiled at the floor.

"What about yours?" he asked, looking up. "How is your painting coming along?"

I gulped and turned my easel around, revealing a half-finished crappy oil monstrosity of -

"Cats?" asked Ryan, a hint of a laugh playing on his voice.

"Yep," I replied, smiling to cover my embarrassment. Ryan had just unveiled a complete masterpiece, while I had followed up with a couple four-legged nightmares.

"Not bad," he said as politely as he could muster after a few moments, and I figured it could've gone much worse. "Do you wanna hang around and finish that for a few hours, or...?"

"I don't really want to go home, so I guess we could paint some more," I said, shrugging, though Ryan was still stepping towards the door. "Unless you had other plans," I added, curious.

"Yeah, actually I was wondering if you wanted to come with me to the movies," he said in one breath - and to anybody else it would've seemed like he wasn't even nervous asking me, but I pick up on stuff after knowing somebody for over a month. And let me tell you, Ryan Ross was nervous when he asked me. _Me_.

"What did you want to go see?" I asked casually, dishing him some of his own medicine.

"There's this dollar theater that plays old horror flicks," he said, starting to pick at a piece of tape stuck to a nearby desk, "and I thought maybe we could go see Dracula if we finished tutoring early."

I pretended to think about it for a good two seconds before responding, "Yeah, okay. That sounds cool. Let's go!"

As always, Ryan hopped into the passenger seat and started giving me directions. I very rarely was the one to suggest a place for us to go, and that was okay. It was as if Ryan had never had the opportunity to go anywhere with a friend before he met me, and now that we were together he was finally able to do all the things he'd dreamed about doing with somebody else, to show someone all the things he loved about the world that he desperately wanted to share. I was almost like his chauffeur sometimes, but gladly; I'd gladly drive him anywhere at the drop of a hat.

We got to the theater after about five minutes, and at that point my nerves were starting to kick in. What was this? Was this just hanging out? Or was this a date? Why was Ryan so nervous when he asked me? _What are we even doing together? Is he serious, or am I just reading in to everything way too much (as usual)?_

He surprised me again by producing two tickets which he'd bought in advance that morning. "It's a dollar theater, though," I said.

"I just wanted to be sure they wouldn't sell out," he said quickly, handing over our tickets to the woman at the door. The smell of popcorn hit me like a wave of beauty and I tugged on Ryan's skinny arm, dragging him towards it.

"I'm paying for this, Ross," I insisted immediately, and before he could protest, I added, "You paid for the tickets. It's my turn." He reluctantly agreed. I bought us one large popcorn and smothered the crap out of it with butter. "Oh, and two large cherry slushies - ,"

"Just one," Ryan interrupted. I raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't need to spend money on two. We'll just share," he said back.

"But don't you want your own? I don't mind, really."

He shook his head. "Let's just...share it."

I followed Ryan up the steps of the theater, letting him choose our seats. My heart thumped as he picked the very back row. It was hardly crowded in there. I fit our slushie in the cupholder wedged between us on the armrest and stuck the popcorn in my lap, already devouring it. "Save some for the movie," Ryan teased, elbowing me. I hissed at him.

The lights dimmed and my heartbeat picked up again. _Is he gonna try anything? Will this be like all the movie theater dates on TV?_

_Or wait - is this even a date at all??_

There was the usual thing you'd expect - our fingers brushing a few times as we reached for popcorn, little jolts of touch shooting through my skin; the occasional shoulder nudge during a particularly cheesy scene; trying not to get distracted by the absolutely adorable way Ryan drinks out of a straw (while simultaneously attempting to not think about him doing other things quite similar to that). It wasn't until half an hour or so had passed that things started getting interesting.

At first, all Ryan did was nonchalantly drape his arm around the back of my chair. My breath froze and I rushed it out of my nose, trying to breathe like a normal human being but finding it difficult when the guy I like was almost wrapping his arm around me in the back row of a dark movie theater.

But then he got a little closer, pretending to adjust in his chair before sliding his arm from behind my seat to my actual shoulders. I automatically leaned into his touch, head nudging against his. He squeezed my arm lightly and I swear my entire heart flew out the back door.

A few more minutes went by. Then, boom - Ryan went a little further. He carefully lifted the slushee out of the cupholder to take a sip from his straw, and then instead of putting it back, he placed it in a different cupholder, so he could slowly lift the arm rest and scoot a bit closer to me. My head was on his shoulder within seconds, his cologne dangerously close to my nose. We stayed like that for the rest of the movie, Ryan squeezing my arm or running his fingers up and down it when a scene would make him or me laugh. The lights came back on at the end, and a miraculous thing happened - he didn't move away. I expected him to scramble away from me the second they switched back on, but he stayed put, squeezing my arm a few more times before letting me go.

I felt cold without him so close to me. We walked back out to the car in silence - not awkward silence, but thoughtful. We could both feel that things were shifting - we were falling into place a little more every day, slowly inching towards love like raindrops drifting lazily down a car window, colliding and racing towards the bottom when they combine.

Our collision almost happened as I dropped him off. I walked him to his front door like I always do, and said, "Goodnight," though it came out more like a whisper than I'd meant it to, breathy and soft. Ryan leaned against his front door and I slipped my arms around his waist, reveling in the feeling of him hugging me back. He inched away just slightly with his head and we bumped noses. I shut my eyes, heart racing, breath nonexistent, blood completely dissolved from my body. _This is it_ , I thought. _This is it, this is it, this is it. It's happening._

It didn't happen.

Ryan pulled away and I opened my eyes blearily, feeling confused beyond belief. Then he smirked and said, in the same breathy tone, "No kissing on the first date."

And my blood dissolved again.

All I could do was chuckle like an idiot and back away, almost falling on the ground as I stared at Ryan, unable to wrench my eyes off of him the whole way back to my car. He did the same thing, though without a stupid laugh. He just stood there on his porch, smiling and leaning against the door, watching me back away and drive off down the street, blasting my music and scream-singing the lyrics because _I went on a date with George Ryan Ross the Third_ , and it was _perfect_.

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Part Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting an update in soooo long! Long story short, I finally read throam, and it was so good that I felt like my little Ryden fic was worthless xD But now I'm back to writing it because A) I love Ryden and B) I love writing. So here we are, and I hope you guys enjoy it (even if it can't compare to throam, aaahhhh omg). <3 xo

_“The beginning is perhaps more difficult than anything else, but keep heart, it will turn out all right.”_  
_― Vincent Van Gogh_

*****

           I spooned some Lucky Charms into my mouth, tapping my foot nervously on the floor as I did so. Mom walked in and her eyes widened. “You’re up early,” she chuckled, ruffling my hair. It was Valentine’s Day and I was on edge – I’d been on edge ever since Ryan and I almost kissed after our apparent first date. Obviously, I wasn’t going to tell Mom any of that, though, so I just nodded and smiled at her, marshmallows stuffed in my mouth.

            “I’ll see you after school, okay, honey?” she said sweetly, kissing my forehead. As she was just about to leave, she turned around and beamed at me, as though I was the perfect child. “Your father and I are so proud of you, Brendon,” she said. “You’re such a good son. You always do what’s right and we’re so blessed to have you in the family.” With that she left, and with that I swallowed down my breakfast with a heavy heart.

            I couldn’t focus on school. Well, that wasn’t too out of the ordinary, but it was worse than usual. My math teacher called my name three times before I answered, and when I did I forgot what class I was in. It’s not my fault that my desk is six feet away from the place where Ryan and I first held hands.

            Even Ethan and Kyle noticed the funny way I was acting as they sat down for lunch. “Dude, you okay?” Ethan asked, waving his hand in front of my face.

“What?” I said, startled. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“I literally just said that my hot cousin is going to be here just in time for the Valentine’s Day dance at church and you didn’t even react.”

“Oh,” I said. “Wait a sec, did you just call your own cousin hot?”

He shrugged. “What? She is.”

“That’s whack, man,” I laughed.

“You met her before and you agreed,” he grumbled, though I couldn’t remember. It was probably just my fake heterosexuality talking, if I ever said I agreed at all.

            I couldn’t wait for the end of the day when I’d see Ryan. Sometimes, if I was lucky, we’d pass each other in the hallway. But today it hadn’t happened, and I was itching to see him, especially since it was Valentine’s Day. What if he had something planned? A surge of worry flew up my spine. What if I was supposed to have something planned? Was he expecting flowers or chocolates or something? Were we an item? Would it be weird if I did something for him, or expected something from him?

            I shook my head and ate my sandwich, willing it to go down while echoes of ‘you’re such a good son’ flitted through my brain. I rolled my eyes and rubbed my forehead. “You sure you’re okay, man?” Kyle asked, looking at me with true worry. I nodded at him.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m just uh…just thinking about that dance,” I lied.

He nodded back. “I got you.”

He really didn’t, but at least he was genuine, something I couldn’t be.

            At the end of the day, my feet couldn’t carry me fast enough to 23B. I swung the door open with vigor and was throwing my backpack on an empty desk, halfway through a sentence when I turned and realized Ryan looked off. “Are you alright?” I interrupted myself, walking over to where he stood by our easels.

He blinked at me for a few seconds, then said, “I found something out today, Brendon.”

I swallowed. “What’s that?” I asked quietly. I couldn’t tell by the look in his eyes if he was upset or not. He just looked different. I couldn’t place it. I also couldn’t figure out what it was he had found out in relation to me to cause this off-ness. He knew everything about me, except, well –

“There isn’t an art class during the period you’re here, is there?” he said, bearing into me with his black rimmed eyes.

Oh.

            I swallowed again, heart pounding. _He knows._ I couldn’t find the right words to say, so I just stood there, swallowing nothing, heart pounding away in my chest like the bass in my car would when I blasted music. “Why did you lie to me, hmm?” he asked softly, though he still didn’t look upset.

In fact, he didn’t look upset at all.

            I still couldn’t speak for some obnoxious reason. I backed up to the counter where the sinks were, and he closed in on me. “Is there something you want to tell me, Brendon?” he asked just as soft.

“What?” I finally breathed out, the only word I could find with him this close. He backed up a little and I took another breath, thinking maybe he wanted an apology. “I’m sorry for lying to you,” I blurted. “I just…I don’t know…”  
“Why did you lie?”

“Uhh…”

“I’m not mad at you, Bren,” he said, taking a little step closer. “I just want to know why you did it, that’s all,” he looked down at the fingers of his right hand, which were slowly tracing up my arm. My heart thudded and I shivered. He looked back up in my eyes and his tongue flicked out over his bottom lip for a split second. I held my breath.

“You know why,” I whispered. He sharply inhaled through his nose at my words, hands holding onto the counter on either side of me, locking me in.

“I do?” he asked, half-smiling.

I was suddenly aware of just how hot my face felt, and again, I didn’t know what to say. “I hope you’re right,” he said quietly, our noses brushing. Then, with some sort of bravery I didn’t know I possessed, I got ahold of his chin and tilted it down. I felt his uneven breath hit my neck, and I leaned up just a bit so our lips could meet.

_Shit._

The first kiss was short and dry, but the second one was much more desperate, my hands tangling in Ryan’s hair, his arms finding my waist and pulling me as close as he could. He broke away only to kiss me again, and I felt numb, absolutely, gorgeously numb, his tongue asking for entrance and I allowed it, opening my mouth and groaning at the feeling. _Yes, yes, yes._ How could something as wonderful as this be a sin?

Sin.

Mom’s words floated back into my mind. _You’re such a good son, you’re such a good son, you’re such a good son._ How could I be a good son, pulling at Ryan’s hair as his tongue explored my mouth? How could I not be a disgrace to my family, making out with another boy in an empty classroom? Panic arose in my chest, and as we broke away, I turned my head. Ryan leaned his head on mine, but I pulled away from him, slipping out of his grip and turning to find my backpack on the desk I’d tossed it onto.

“Brendon?” he said, voice quiet and timid, like a scared little boy who’d just broken his neighbor’s window. I swung the thing over my shoulder and bit my lip to keep from crying (which, by the way, didn’t even work) – the same lip he had just graced with his own. I trailed out of the classroom, shuddering as tears fell down my face in silent waves.

I could feel his weight on me all night, his skin and his breath and his touch. No matter how long I showered, his cologne was still there somehow. And no matter how long I tried to shove it out of my mind, the sad look on his face as I left him alone in 23B would not fade away. I was 100% certain it never would. And I was 100% certain I’d never forgive myself for making him feel that way.


	6. Part Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! Haha I'm so sorry for not updating in FIVE MONTHS. I got a new job right after I posted the last part, and life has been super super super busy since then. But the Christmas season is over and I'm used to everything at work now, so I'll finally (hopefully) be able to update this a lot more frequently. I'm actually making it a New Years goal to take time to write every week. I love writing and I don't want to give this story up. Hope you guys like the new chapter! Sorry it's a bit short. It's more transitional than anything. New update next week (most likely). <3

_“There is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.”_   
_― Vincent van Gogh_

*****

 

I didn’t show up for art tutoring on Monday. And I didn’t show up on Tuesday. And I didn’t show up on Wednesday, either. Each day, I took new walking paths, avoiding all the spots where I’d usually pass Ryan in the hallway. On Thursday, I was at the water fountains getting a drink when I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. I looked up and lost my breath as I realized it was Ryan who had done it. He wasn’t wearing any eyeliner, and it caught me off guard, just how beautiful his eyes are even without makeup. I swallowed down more regret.

            He didn’t say a word. He handed me something and slowly walked away, and I watched him go. The bell was going to ring soon, but I didn’t care. I hurried to the nearest bathroom, locked myself in a stall, and opened the box. Inside was a red rose, a small box of chocolates, and a note. My hands shook as I traced the petals of the flower. I balanced the box on my lap and opened the letter.

“bren,

i’m really sorry for what happened the other day. i shouldn’t have pushed myself on you like that. it was totally unplanned. i would never want to make you feel uncomfortable. i hope we can still be friends.

-ryan

p.s. this box is the present i was going to give you during art tutoring for v-day, and on the back of this is the note i was going to give you with it. i figured i’d still give it to you anyway.”

I flipped the letter over.

“whisper babe..i'm as good as it gets in this town. whisper babe..i'm a fever you can't sweat out.

these are my deepest thoughts and secrets under a microscope or under a spotlight. forgive me if i'm not quite ready to give them to you. it's just such a different feeling..when i see you smiling and singing back to me, i'm still playing different pictures in my head that aren't so pleasant. i'm doing my best now to live in the song and not just the meaning.

happy valentines day –xo rr”

            My heart stopped beating. I held the letter to my chest and caught my breath, trying to find the courage to leave the stall and go to class. I couldn’t skip – the school would call my parents, and I’d be dead, but I was already so late the penalty would probably be some kind of detention. I sighed and carefully zipped the box into my backpack, deciding the possibility of a three-hour detention was better than the week-long detention I’d get for skipping. I walked into the hallway and ran right into somebody’s chest.

“Whoa, sorry,” I blurted. “I didn’t mean to – oh.” I’d run right into Ryan. He took a few steps back, his eyes darting down quickly after locking with mine for too long.

“Sorry,” he muttered, and turned on his heel. I grabbed his elbow. “Wait,” I said, spinning him back around.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I read your note. The letter you wrote, in the Valentine’s Day box. Both sides.”

“Oh,” he replied, still not meeting my eyes. He seemed nervous. I felt like a complete asshole. “So…what do you think? Can we still…be friends? Or do you, like…” he messed with the end of his sleeves, staring at them, “…want me to leave?”

A fleeting moment passed, time slowing and speeding up at the same time. A bird flew by the window outside. Someone in a classroom far down the hall laughed, and the rest of the class followed. Tiny pieces of dust floated around us, visible in the sunlight. Ryan stopped touching his sleeves, bringing his arms to his sides, eyes still focused solemnly on the floor.

I broke through the moment. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him up to me, getting on my toes to kiss him like I should have the first time. He stood frozen for a second before relaxing, his arms slipping around my hips and tightening. We broke off and he looked at me like it was the first time he’d ever seen me.

“So…friends?” he asked.

We both just stood there and laughed for the rest of the period. 

 


End file.
